I won't lie. It's no fun to feel ice-cold water dripping down your collar or sit to milk with pant legs soaked to the knees from wind-driven rain. I don't enjoy slipping and sliding in the gooey chicken pen, hoping I don't go turtle, flat on my back (again). There was a moment last evening, however, after all the critters were tucked in for the night, that was pure pleasure. The chores for the day were done, the woodstove had warmed the house nicely and my wet clothes were spread on chairs to dry, Swedish meatballs were simmering. As I stood at the kitchen sink, looking out at the fading light and the pounding rain, listening to the wind prowl around the house, I realized just how fortunate I am. I have work that is physically challenging, animals that I love, books to stimulate my mind and imagination, projects to satisfy my "artistic" side, family and friends I adore. I was warm and dry and comfort food was waiting. My mother told me, "Know when you're happy," and I certainly knew it last night.
The storm continues to rage this morning, and I may have to work a little harder to remember that feeling today.